


Venomous Torture

by awiggers_0



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Deaf Clint Barton, Eddie Brock has Depression, Eddie Meeting the Marvel Universe, Everyone Has Issues, Mixture of Movie Clint and Comic Clint, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 13:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awiggers_0/pseuds/awiggers_0
Summary: In the end, Eddie went back to New York.In the end, he was glad he did.





	1. Setting Out

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ  
> Thank you for giving my work a try. I saw the Venom movie and just had to write about Eddie! He is an adorable dork who must be protected at all costs.  
> My Clint Barton is a mixture of Movie/Fandom/Comic Clint. I don't like how he's so serious in the movies and I don't like Laura Barton, she will not be in this story sorry.  
> Story picks up after Venom movie, you do not have to have seen the movie but backstory is always nice. Will try to keep spoilers to a minimum.  
> Infinity War and Civil War do not exist in this timeline. I am ignoring their existence.

In the end, Eddie had to go back to New York. Yes, he had been raised in San Francisco, and yes he hadn't exactly left NY on good terms. But the past was the past, and his apartment was a federal crime scene. So Eddie had scraped together his meager amount of cash and the few belongings he was about to snatch and stuff in a duffel and boarded the first flight back to the big apple. Anne had called soon after he had landed, having heard his short message he had sent her way, and pointing him in the direction of an old client of hers. 'He owes me a favor' she had simply said, giving the address and hanging up.

 _ **Car.**_ Venom snapped, pulling Eddie short from becoming a pancake from a car screeching by,

"Thanks." he muttered, pulling out the earphones he had bought in the airport and popping the earbuds in. They weren't connected to anything, but it helped him feel like less people looked at him when he talked out loud with them in. Had certainly helped on the airplane. 

 _ **You need to be more aware.**_ The symbiote pointed out, allowing Eddie control of his body once again. He gave a huff, 

"Isn't that what you're here for?" he asked, and that shut the parasite up for a few minutes as they walked, dodging the traffic of late afternoon traffic, slightly thrown by the jet lag and five and a half hour plane ride. 

 _ **How did you survive without me?**_ Venom asked, his smaller form within Eddie giving a small jerk. He gave a hiss, digging a knuckle into his sternum, 

"Hey, calm down. I survived with beer and tater tots. I was perfectly fine before you came along." 

_**A perfect loser.** _

"Shut the hell up."

_**You just missed the building.** _

"I what?" Eddie stopped, looking back the way he'd come. Sure enough, a sign hanging over the doorway up a set of stairs read 'Bedford-Stuvyesant', the name of the apartment building Anne had given them. He gave the building a once over, noticing the crumbling brick and rusty fire-escape crisscrossing its way down the front of the building.

"Well, it looks better than the last one." he muttered, starting up the steps. Venom made no comment as Eddie turned to the buzzer system, surprised to note that instead of the usual yellow paper and yellow, sticky buttons it looked like a new system, all white paper and shiny metal. 

 _ **The landlord cares for the safety of his tenants.**_ Venom noted what Eddie was starting to think, and he nodded,

"But it also might mean trouble." he said, looking for the name Anne had given. 'Clint' was the first one on the top, and he pressed the button next to it. It took a minute, but the system buzzed back, and a voice answered over the com,

"Yeah?" a half-asleep voice came, and Eddie cleared his throat,

"Um, not sure how to explain this, but an Anne Weying sent me, said you owe her a favor?" he asked. After a moment the voice came again,

"Third on your left." and the door popped open as it was unlocked. Eddie gave a mental nudge to Venom,

"What do you say?" 

_**If this goes bad, I'm eating him** _ ****


	2. Meeting the Landlord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets Clint the Landlord. He is not what he was expecting.

When Eddie knocked on the landlords door, the person who answers it is not who he was expecting, and he didn't really know what he was expecting. The door swung open, revealing a man around Eddie's age with sandy-blonde hair and hazel eyes. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts, all pulled together with butterfly stitches, and an old bandaid looked to be a permanent resident on the man's nose. He wore an old shirt and sweatpants, with bare feet peeking out, and an entire pitcher of coffee in one hand. They both stood there awkwardly, or at least Eddie did. Clint seemed to be staring into Eddie's soul, and Venom gave a nervous shudder,

"How you know Anne?" Clint asked suddenly, almost causing Eddie to jump. He rubbed the back of his neck, an old habit of his,

"Ex fiance, actually." he muttered, and Clint gave a long sigh, waving him in with his coffee pot,

"Come on in then, if she sent you my way, then you need a place to stay I'm presuming?" he asked, leading Eddie into the kitchenette of his apartment. Eddie gave a quick glance around the place, noticing the strewn clothes, and felt a bit of a chill when he noticed a stray gun peeking out from under the couch, and was that a bow hanging on the wall?!

"Yeah, something like that." was what came out of Eddie's mouth, and he felt Venom basically give the equivalent to a face-palm. Socializing wasn't his thing outside his job, sue him. Clint gave him a quirked eyebrow but he grinned,

"You're fine, Anne was my lawyer a few years back, got me out of a bad situation. I told her I'd owe her if she needed the help in return." he explained, holding up his coffee pot, "Coffee?" 

Eddie stopped for a minute and thought about that statement. Of course Anne, a lawyer, helped someone out - who by the looks of it is actually a quite powerful person and could probably kill Eddie with the coffee pot he was holding (or just by his hands because damn those arms) - and had used her favor to get Eddie settled back into New York. Then he thought about how he had left at four am this morning, and no it was almost four in the afternoon due to the flight and stupid time zones,

"Coffee would be great." he admitted, his shoulders slumping. Clint nodded, his grin getting bigger as he went to find a mug (or maybe mugs?) for them,

"I've just got a few questions for you, then if I approve you can settle in." Clint explained, motioning to a table behind his couch that looked like it had seen better days, or maybe had been dug from the trash bin. 

"Shoot." he replied, taking a seat as Clint joined him with two mugs and the blessed coffee. 

_**No don't shoot.**_ Venom growled, curling up tightly in Eddie's chest. Eddie just dug a knuckle into his sternum again to make him quit as Clint poured the coffee and handed him a mug that had yellow lettering across it yelling 'SMASH' with a green background like the comics. Probably a reference to the Hulk, which Eddie had heard about, along with the rest of the world,

"Why New York?" the question itself was a bit of stopper, and Eddie actually thought about his answer,

"I was a journalist, and lets just say I found myself where I shouldn't have. I needed to get out." he said, but quickly went to explain when Clint tensed, "I didn't bring any of it with me, but the memories from my old place were getting bad." At that Clint seemed to ease, and he nodded,

"I can understand that, just as long as nothing follows you here." the man grunted, taking a sip from his mug.

**_He has no idea_** _._ Eddie gave Venom another mental shove,

"And then do you know how long you'll be staying?" Clint asked, and he gave it a quick thought before shaking his head,

"No, not sure. At the moment I'm just trying to get back on my feet." Another nod, followed by silence. They sat at the shitty table, drinking actually pretty okay coffee, and Eddie actually didn't feel safer. Venom curled its way around his ribs, reminding him of his slightly overprotective companion, and the good company he seemed to sense that Clint was. Although he was a reporter and journalist, written words were always better than spoken ones for Eddie. It's why he always carried around his notepad during interviews. He would forget questions or go off topic, or be asked his sources and draw up blanks. Social interactions were weird for him. 

"Well, as long as you don't cause trouble for the other tenants, and follow the rules, then I see no problem why you can't stay." Clint said after several minutes of companionable silence, "I don't do gang activity or drugs. You can smoke but not around others if they ask you not to. Just be respectful to the others, yeah?" It took a second for it to sink in, and a sharp nudge from Venom,

"Oh, yes! Of course!" he stammered out, nodding. Clint gave a light snort, tossing back the last of his coffee,

"I know the guys have a grill out on the roof every Friday, so feel free to introduce yourself there. If you need me I'll give you my cell and I'll drop the lease off for you to look over before you sign." the landlord shuffled into another room, and Eddie heard the jingling of keys, "I have a few rooms available, do you want a random one or do you want a listing?"

"Um, do you have any lower rooms? I'm not too good with heights." Eddie asked, ignoring the  _ **pussy**_ from Venom. After a quick shuffle Clint reappeared with two keys, on in each hand,

"Yeah, got two rooms up on floor two. 3A or 7A?" He asked, holding out the keys. Eddie shrugged and grabbed randomly, looking at the 7A staring back at him, "Welcome aboard." Clint declared, "I hope you enjoy your stay."


	3. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's POV of Chapter 2 (basically)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear my writing will get better as we go. I am really trying and I find it hard to stay motivated on one topic! If this story pauses I am most likely writing others. I'm also hoping chapters will at least be 1k long. Here's to hoping.

Clint had been having a good dream. He didn't remember exactly what it was, but he knew it was good, if the drool on his pillow was saying anything. It had been nice to wake up slowly for once, without an alarm of some kind blasting his hearing aids into screeching feedback or to Nat throwing him off the bed because he hadn't slept with his aids in. Which was not comfortable. But he had blinked open his eyes to his quiet world, taking in the sun peeking through his shitty blinds on his shitty window in his shitty apartment. And thought, 'This is nice'. 

Of course the need to pee had won out in the end and he had drug himself from his cocoon of warmth, grabbing a shirt that he had tossed on the floor a few days prior as he went. He gave his arm a good sniff as he walked into the bathroom, noting to take a shower, finished his business, and went hunting for the glorious coffee. The whole flushing the toilet and washing his hands routine had reminded him he didn't have his aids in, but he wasn't expecting anyone so he left them on his side table. His little, shitty, perfect kitchen had a perfect coffee maker that he started up, loving himself for the fact that he had filled it the night before, knowing he would want it in the morning. Morning Clint loves Insomniac Clint. He wandered back into his bedroom, grabbing his aids and slipped them in on his way back into the kitchen, doing a whistle series to help him pitch them. He had turned them down the night before. Minus points on Insomniac Clint. 

Just as he snatched up the drink of the gods his buzzer gave off its little beep next to his door, signaling someone wanted to talk to him from outside. He frowned, walking over towards the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and he checked the windows as he passed, not seeing any danger waiting out there. He couldn't see the front from back in his rooms, but snipers were always an option. He pressed the top white button, speaking into the com,

"Yeah?" he asked, then let go. The only thing he didn't like about this system was the whole walkie-talkie part about it. A voice responded,

"Um, not sure how to explain this, but an Anne Weying sent me, said you owe her a favor?" a man asked, and Clint cursed under his breath, then cursed himself because the dude couldn't hear him. He hit his head on the door, remembering several years ago when a SHIELD mission had gone through the deep end, he had lost his aids, and a woman had shown up at the station, cussing the officers out for refusing Clint a translator, then had proceeded to demand they drop all charges in compensation, which they had. He had been so impressed he offered her a future favor, and it looks like its back to bite him in the ass,

"Third on your left." He answered, pressing the release button in the bottom corner to let the guy in. Might as well see who Anne sent him. And see if he could help the guy. 

 

A few moments of waiting and a light knock signaled the guy's arrival, and Clint opened the door to find a scruffy looking man around his own age. He looked tired, and his eyes were a bit bloodshot, but last Clint knew Anne Weying was in San Francisco, so the guy was probably jet lagged to hell. The dark circles under his eyes almost matched Clint's own, and he saw a familiar look in the guys eyes. He had seen something that he would never unsee. 

"How you know Anne?" He asked, and he saw the guy give a slight jerk, almost minuscule, but nothing got past Clint's eyes,

"Ex fiance, actually." the man answered, rubbing his neck in a gesture that screamed _bad subject_. That only meant one reason as to why Anne gave his name away to an ex,

"Come on in then, if she sent you my way, then you need a place to stay I'm presuming?" He inquired, motioning the guy in with his still full coffee pot towards the kitchen. It was the cleanest part of his apartment and he wasn't expecting company, so he didn't want to freak the guy out if he saw something normal people weren't used to seeing. Like his bow. Or a few guns. 

"Yeah, something like that." came a stuttered reply behind him, and Clint turned to see the look crossing over the guy's face that read _why am I like this?_  , which Clint could understand. He quirked an eyebrow and gave the guy a grin, which seemed to relax him,

"You're fine, Anne was my lawyer a few years back, got me out of a bad situation. I told her I'd owe her if she needed the help in return." he explained, before remembering that he was a host to a guest, and he had a beverage he could offer in hand, "Coffee?" Damn he needed the whole pot if he was gonna be this dumb in the morning. His guest seemed to pause for a minute,

"Coffee would be great." he said, his shoulders slumping, and Clint's mental tallies upped on the guy. He didn't look like he had a violent bone in his body, or more looked like the type that didn't bite until pushed into a corner. And it looked like he had found too many corners too many times lately. He nodded, already thinking up some things he could get the guy to help him settle in. He didn't see the guy bring in a bag, but he was betting he left one in the hall,

"I've just got a few questions for you, then if I approve you can settle in." of course these questions were more out of curiosity than actual information gathering. Any tenants he had let in the building had been good, and he trusted his gut instincts. He motioned to his shitty table that he had found out back (hey one man's trash is another's treasure) while turning to search for some clean mugs. His guest probably wouldn't approve of his usual habit of just drinking straight from the pot, 

"Shoot." came the answer, and when Clint glanced the guy had the same expression on his face from before, like his mouth was moving and his brain caught up to him five seconds later to give him whiplash. He turned back around, throwing open a cabinet to find several clean mugs. He snatched two before heading back over to the table. He noticed one was his Hulk mug he had gotten some time ago from Nat when he said he was collecting all of the Avengers, while his said 'Pot Head' and the O was a coffee pot, 

"Why New York?" he asked, because really? After everything New York had gone through, and was still rebuilding in some areas like Hell's Kitchen from the Incident, and would take years longer to rebuild just the buildings, let alone the amount of homeless and jobless that had come around due to it all. The weekly to biweekly attacks, one would want to escape, not come running,

"I was a journalist, and lets just say I found myself where I shouldn't have. I needed to get out." the man answered, and Clint had himself second-guessing everything he had thought about this guy. The guy almost threw his mug across the room in the attempt to throw his hands out as if to catch Clint from running away, "I didn't bring any of it with me, but the memories from my old place were getting bad." and there it was. The reason why this guy looked so tired. Just like Clint had done, he had run from his past, trying to find a fresh start wherever he could. And if he was a journalist, then New York was the best place to be for a job. 

"I can understand that, just as long as nothing follows you here." he cautioned. The last thing he wanted was to wake up in the middle of the night to learn someone had broken into his apartment building, or someone was dead, or both. He took an angry sip of his coffee just thinking about it. 

"And then do you know how long you'll be staying?" he asked, not entirely sure why he asked. He didn't really care what his tenants did, each one simply paid their bills, and was generally rent-free since Clint had bought the building with a combination of his SHIELD salary and Avengers payments. Anything he billed them for rent was towards keeping the building maintained, and they all happily pitched in some pocket money to help keep everyone else happy,

"No, not sure. At the moment I'm just trying to get back on my feet." the stranger said, staring into his coffee. Clint nodded, understanding that as well. He had restarted his life several times. Sometimes for missions, sometimes for himself, and each time got easier, but it was never truly easy. He didn't know if he should comfort the guy or not, so he simply stayed quiet, which seemed to be a good choice. The guy seemed to be falling asleep on his coffee, even though it was _holy shit_ almost four o'clock in the afternoon. Well that's why he finally feels like he caught up with his sleep. Either way, he didn't see a reason to turn the guy away, and if it got a favor out of his book, then by all means,

"Well, as long as you don't cause trouble for the other tenants, and follow the rules, then I see no problem why you can't stay." he said after a few minutes, "I don't do gang activity or drugs. You can smoke but not around others if they ask you not to. Just be respectful to the others, yeah?" he received a blank stare in return, and he was about to lean forward a shake the guy to make sure he wasn't sleeping with his eyes open when the guy gave a quick jerk, 

"Oh, yes! Of course!" he practically squeaked, and a snort found its way out of Clint. He drank the last of his coffee and wished he could have another cup, but knew it would throw him off even more,

"I know the guys have a grill out on the roof every Friday, so feel free to introduce yourself there. If you need me I'll give you my cell and I'll drop the lease off for you to look over before you sign." he said, standing and walking into his 'office'. A ratty desk with a ratty computer that kept track of leases and tenants, paperwork piles all over the place, and a corkboard that held the keys to his remaining rooms. He started counting, aligning them with the ones in his head,

 "I have a few rooms available, do you want a random one or do you want a listing?" he called into the kitchen,

"Um, do you have any lower rooms? I'm not too good with heights." came the almost shy reply, and Clint filed that away for later, remembering that the BBQ's always took place on the roof of the building. He snatched the two keys available for the starting floor, and walked back out,

"Yeah, got two rooms up on floor two. 3A or 7A?" He asked, holding out the keys. The guy shrugged and grabbed 7A, "Welcome aboard." Clint declared, "I hope you enjoy your stay." He held out the hand that had held the key, "Call me Clint."

"Eddie, Eddie Brock." 

**Author's Note:**

> As always please leave comments on story lines that you would like to see (I would love some inspiration for some one-shots!) and please leave constructive critiscm as I have not written in a VERY long time. Thank you!


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